Confirmed But Denied
by CrumpetCapers
Summary: Something sinister is happening to young recruits. It's up to NCIS to find out who is responsible and put an end to the madness. Unfortunately, doing that places the entire team in danger. Especially two particular agents who are going to need one another more than ever.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I am going to attempt my first multi-chap NCIS story. Feel free to comment on any of it, as it will help me continue and fix anything I may need to. I promise I will appreciate it. (:**

**I do not own NCIS or any of its characters.**

* * *

The young marine was literally running for his life. He'd completed thirteen weeks of basic training at Parris Island before attending the School of Infantry, and the Infantry Training Battalion, where he'd endured several more weeks of combat training. There was no way he was going down before he had a chance to claim his rightful place in the corps. He was an official marine with the prospect of being stationed overseas, yet here he was being chased down like some sort of wild animal in his homeland.

He knew he'd prevail against this enemy, because that's what he'd been trained to do. Besides, he _couldn't_ die yet. Not when he was so close to embarking on a vessel with his newly formed fleet. He was looking forward to it, and definitely sticking around to celebrate with all his military buddies, old and new.

How had things taken such a horrible turn? He'd survived the infamous crucible at boot camp and never broke. He'd excelled in weapons training and never broke. Yet earlier this day, while enduring the worst kind of hell imaginable at the hands of the monster pursuing him now, he'd cracked and wound up begging... It broke him all right, and now everything was so messed up.

The rush of adrenaline was coursing through his veins, and he pushed himself to the absolute limit. He just had to survive this and never, _ever _be anyone's victim again.

His breath came in choppy waves. He threw a glance over his shoulder before attempting to leap over the wire fences to freedom, seeing that he only had seconds to spare. He lunged full-force over the top of the first obstacle, easily clearing it. However, his world tilted a bit as he struggled to keep his footing on the other side. He was utterly exhausted. But a good marine would find ways to cope.

He was relieved to hear his pursuant finally tiring, judging by the sound of labored breathing and slowed footfalls on his six. He could do this. He mopped the sweat from his eyes to view his surroundings, but to his dismay, the entire area seemed eerily deserted. Shouldn't _someone_ be around to see him being chased by this maniac?

"_**Help!" **_he cried. No one responded so he staggered on, willing his sluggish muscles to carry him forward. He was being tested. This was his first real battle after all...

Envisioning himself on an actual battlefield, he sprinted once he had the next obstacle in his sights. It was another fence to climb, then he would veer toward the road where he hoped to meet with passing traffic. He was almost there.

Unfortunately, the marine-issued fatigues he wore suddenly slid down his hips restricting his movement. An unanticipated hindrance to say the least, but he hiked them up and kept going. They still hung low on his slender form without a belt to keep them in place, and he had to grasp the waistband now that the zipper had slid down as well. He cursed aloud that he had not been able to fasten them properly before fleeing...

He stumbled when the pants slipped again and caught at his thighs, snagging on a spiked barb of the fence. It pierced the fabric, biting deeply into his flesh and bringing him down heavily to the asphalt with a grunt of pain. He screamed out in frustration. Maybe someone would hear him.

Despite the surge of blood flowing from the gaping wound, he struggled to his feet and clamored to clear the fence once more. But before he could, a pair of meaty hands yanked him off by the loose seat of his pants, tugging them down his thighs. He shrieked as the hands violently dragged him backward, where they roughly covered his mouth to prevent another scream from escaping. They were the same hands that had bound his ankles and wrists earlier.

Knowing that his life depended on it, he fought as he'd been trained to do, biting into the palm ferociously and jabbing an elbow back into his assailant. The ensnaring hands momentarily loosened from his mouth, only to lock around his throat with a fierce vice-like grip. The struggle continued.

He'd mastered hand-to-hand combat training, and knew how to target the most vulnerable and accessible parts of the enemy, but spinning wildly around, he found himself face to face with evil itself. The steely eyes intimidated him to the very core until survival instincts kicked back in and fueled him to lift a powerful knee aimed directly at the groin. Next, came gouges to those hateful eyes. Gaining a bit of leverage, he used the reprieve to gasp for some much-needed air, tug the pants up higher, and turn to climb once more.

He could tell by the fierce growl he heard from below, that he had only fueled the fires raging in his pursuant. He straddled the high fence, hissing in pain as he anticipated his next move. He was already physically and emotionally drained from hours of torture, weeks of training, and lack of sleep. Fresh blood loss, along with old and new injuries, only made matters worse.

Frantically, he looked for an escape route. He began to shake violently when he saw that a gate was at his feet that opened to either side. He was in fact trapped like an animal. The new marine was sadly coming to terms with his plight. He was failing his first mission.

It filled him with terror, but he had no choice but to jump. He gasped when he landed hard, panic settling in when he saw that was blocked by a set of broad shoulders. Before he could plan the next move, his arm was brutally twisted behind his back with a powerful snap, making him sob in agony, and his neck was squeezed tightly until he hung limply against the wire fence.

The hands continued to squeeze until he slid lifelessly to the hard, cold ground. It would be his final resting place until he would be discovered hours later. The handsome marine's bright blue eyes dripped tears as life left his body, but remained stubbornly wide-open as if resisting an inevitable fate. Lying spread-eagle and bare-belly up to blue skies, with the seagulls curiously encircling overhead, he looked almost sacrificial.

A hooded figure turned away, leaving the young man's body to bleed out in to a sea of red. Only minutes later, the wind picked up and blue skies gave way to overcast gray. The ground beneath the dead marine rumbled, and storm clouds opened up to release a gentle spattering of raindrops. They were like tears from heaven, falling there to wash away the ones that the desolate marine had cried upon his untimely demise.

* * *

The rain was coming down in torrents by the time the NCIS team arrived to take possession of the marine's body. Ducky was clad in an over-sized slicker with a wide brim shielding his eyes. He knelt and bowed his head over the deceased to make his assessments, noting the lowered trousers. He and Jimmy had popped up a temporary shelter around the crime scene to preserve as much evidence as possible, given the weather. The last traces of blood could already be seen swirling around in the deep pools that had gathered at the site. He set to work probing the liver of the victim, while Jimmy took notes.

"Between four and six hours!" Ducky shouted, removing the probe. Jimmy nodded and recorded the data.

Tim was side-stepping puddles and doing his best to mark off and measure the area, while Tony snapped photos from under his rain poncho. Gibbs rustled as he went by in his own rain-gear, visually scanning the area for evidence. He looked up at the barbed wire fencing surrounding the area.

"Hey!"

The downpour was drowning him out, so he motioned for the others to follow. He led them to a place where they quickly spotted what he already had; a bit of tan fabric hooked on the fence and flapping in the wind.

Tim nodded and bagged the evidence as soon as Tony had photographed it. Ellie furrowed her brow, clearly deep in thought. She spun slowly around in circles, fingers extended as she went. She seemed to be in her own little world, and oblivious to the rain relentlessly pelting her.

"What's she doing?" Tony yelled, grinning and nudging Tim. "Does she think she's Monk..."

Tim was already watching their coworker curiously. He shrugged. He, himself, would love to know the answer to that question.

Since there wasn't much more that Ducky and Jimmy could gather from the increasingly compromised scene, Ducky decided they may as well bag the body, transport it to the van, and get it to where he would have more luck determining how he'd died.

"I'm afraid Mother Nature has intervened this time!" Ducky called out to Jimmy, indicating that it was time to pack up.

Finding Ducky's words barely audible over the roar of the wind and rain, Jimmy saluted his mentor, flashed him a small acknowledging smile, then followed his lead. Together they lifted the body onto the gurney and loaded it into the back of the van.

"What do ya' know so far, Duck?" Gibbs came up shouting, catching him just as he was about to climb behind the wheel. The older man hoisted himself up, and slid into the seat.

"Not much that I can tell you until I get him back, Jethro! Quite the storm though, isn't it!" he shouted back. He peered through the windshield at the sky to plead his case.

"I know! I know!" Gibbs conceded. He leaned into the cab and out of the rain where they could hear one another better, with an inquisitive look still swimming in his pale blue eyes. "I know you'll need some time with the body, time outside of the storm Duck, but what's your gut telling you?"

"I am afraid that I tend to rely on my gut far less often than you do Jethro. But it is probable that the deceased was fatally wounded, at least without proper treatment, when his femoral artery was severed on that barbed-wire fence back there. Then, caught by his attacker, was finished off on the spot due to strangulation. But, I am afraid that I have little to back that up until I get him home and take a better look."

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs said, patting him on the shoulder before closing the door. He knew that it was hard for the older gentleman to commit to anything concrete, without first thoroughly analyzing all evidence in his autopsy.

Gibbs sauntered away to meet with the rest of the crew, carefully moving aside to allow the van to pass. It was exactly what he'd wagered had happened to the dead marine. Maybe this would be a simpler case than he'd originally thought. Now, they just had to find the murderer.

* * *

The ride back was the typical adventure for Gibbs' passengers. Between the continual switching of lanes and dodging of semi-trucks as he sped down the highway, no one was using it as a time to socialize. Gibbs observed his uncharacteristically silent agents with mild interest, somewhat surprised that there wasn't the typical banter, or onslaught of insults being flung back and forth.

Tim was too busy concentrating on each set of approaching headlights, gripping the dashboard as he always did when his boss was driving, and swallowing nervously. He closed his eyes just as Gibbs turned his way to shoot a double-take at the agent who was fervently muttering something under his breath.

"You say something, McGee?" he asked nonchalantly.

Tim opened his eyes and shifted around to look at him. "No-No, boss. Just um-nothing."

His eyes suddenly bulged, and he flattened himself against the back of the seat when he saw that his boss' eyes were solely on him, with no sign whatsoever, that they'd be returning to the road any time soon. Brakes screeched loudly in the passing lane. McGee closed his eyes again. Maybe when he opened them next, it would all be over.

Tony and Ellie sat quietly in the back. Her eyes were wide, but she seemed relatively calm compared to her backseat companion. No matter how many rides Tony endured with his Boss as commandeer of a vehicle, he couldn't get used to it. Currently, he was clutching his stomach, chin to chest, to keep from hurling. A horn blared and Tony rolled his eyes in dismay. As far as he was concerned, driving with his boss was one of the biggest job risks he'd faced since becoming an NCIS agent.

Gibbs glanced in the rear-view mirror. "Problem back there, DiNozzo?" He asked, screwing up his eyes at his squirming senior agent.

Tony shook his head. "Everything's great bakc here, boss! Just wish I didn't eat that Moo Goo Gai Pan for lunch today."

* * *

Back at the office, it didn't take long for the crew to fall in sync with one another as they discussed the case. Especially, since they were relieved to have survived another trip with Gibbs. They tossed their gear behind the desks and set to work.

"Turns out that the dead marine is Private Gregory Goodman, fresh out of training and planning to be deployed after he completes MOS." The men gathered in front of the plasma screen where Tim had the young marine's photo pulled up. "Born in Buffalo, NY where he graduated from Hutchinson Central Technical High School just this past spring," Tim continued.

"That all?" Gibbs asked.

"Family wanted him to attend Purdue University as an engineering student, but he was determined to be the first marine in the family, aiming for Infantry. He enlisted only two weeks after graduation. Obviously, in a big hurry. Parted with his family yesterday afternoon, a little after two p.m. Family's w-wanting answers-of course," Tim stammered, realizing that he was stating the obvious. Gibbs' eyes told him as much.

"So do I, McGee. So do I," he said, grabbing the coffee from his desk to take another swill.

"Looks like he was barely eighteen years old when he died, Boss," Tony continued. "Birthday was only three days before he enlisted too. Wanted to do it all. He was about to begin his MOS training here in D.C.-Special Weapons. "

"Assigned to Drill Instructors Roger Peterson, Jeffery Zapata, and Matthew Richardson, in that order," Ellie said, joining them. " Further up the chain, Company Commander David Hickman, and Battalion Commander Richard Moore."

Gibbs nodded. He knew who they were. "About to dig up the dirt on them now, boss," Tony said.

Ellie was already researching the dead marine's records and training schedule history on her PC, when Gibbs left for autopsy where Ducky had the body of the young marine draped and laid out before him. He looked at the peacefully angelic face of the young recruit with sorrow.

"Oh, my dear boy. You didn't have much of a chance to live your life young Private Gregory Goodman, did you? Only eighteen years of age, you were barely an adult. Never did understand how an age with the suffix 'teen' could ever be considered adult, and not teen," he mused aloud.

He set the clipboard down, and sighed deeply. He studied the delicate features of the dead male, finding many bruises and some swelling on his cheekbones and along the jaw.

"And so very, very handsome, too. Such a pity." He clicked his tongue as he studied the defensive wounds on one of the bruised hands. "I see you put up a good fight however, my dear boy."

Gibbs silently entered, and took his place beside him. "Whatcha' got, Ducky?"

Ducky looked startled for a moment. "Oh, there you are, Jethro. This poor young man not only met with an untimely death, but an unsavory one as well, I'm afraid. He was violently assaulted, that much I'm certain of. "

He held up the raw, bloodied hand, slowly turning the fingertips for him to see the jagged, torn nail edges. Gibbs' eyebrows rose as he waited to hear more. Ducky turned the cadaver's head to show deep bruising around the neck area.

"As I suspected, it appears that he was in fact choked to death not long after he sustained the fatal wound to the femoral artery of his thigh. It was nearly severed and he would have only lived minutes without treatment. All _a__fter_ he was also brutally beaten." He rolled the marine on to his side, displaying several deep welts along his hip and thigh. "Some of the wounds and abrasions were of course a result of the chase, but many were there earlier, and clearly from a weapon such as a leather strap."

"So he was abused, pursued and wounded with a fatal injury to his femoral artery..._then_ choked to death?" Gibbs asked, trying to process the slew of information.

"I am afraid so. And, possibly raped," Ducky added soberly. His eyes clouded over.

This time Gibbs' eyebrows shot to an all-time high. "Are you sure about that, Ducky?"

"No. That is still to be determined." He went around to the other side of the body, carefully studying his patient intently. "But I have found abrasions and tears that indicate he was at least sexually assaulted in some way. Only Abby can make that call now."

"Thanks, Ducky," he said, already heading to his next stop.

His gut was telling him that he was dealing with something truly sinister this time. Abby seemed to be expecting him when he arrived.

"Abbs, what d'ya have?" he asked peering around her shoulder.

"I knew you'd be here, Gibbs!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. He gave her a small smile, then stared at her for a moment while she grinned back at him.

"Meaning you have something for me, Abbs?" he prompted.

"Well...yes...and no. I ran the DNA from the swabs Ducky gave me-you know the ones from his er-I mean-"

"Abbs."

"The ones from his private areas, Gibbs." She made her way to the spectrometer and looked at the screen. He followed, and studied the it too. "And, surprisingly they returned nothing. Well they returned something, just not the something that I was looking for."

"You're telling me you found _nothing,_ Abbs?"

"You're so impatient! Actually, I was looking for semen you see-but it seems that the private did not have anyone elses's semen inside of his private area-See what I did there?" she asked, grinning wider. "No? Okay," she quickly added when he did not look amused.

Gibbs tried not to smile when she turned back to her discovery, but a vague one danced about his lips anyway. "Just tell me what you _did_ find, Abby."

"Well...I found traces of latex as in a rubber glove-or maybe a prophylactic. As well as a green grease used to oil artillery, or for use in hydraulics, machinery, army jeeps, that sort of thing-you've probably heard of it. Not Green Grease-that's the one that-you know those crazy, cheesy television commercial with the two guys who- " He looked at her blankly.

"Or...maybe not. Never mind. It's a newer biodegradable product that's less toxic and more environmentally friendly than the standard lubricant—you know what-never mind that either. Let's just say it's more widely used today than it was even a couple of years ago. What is even weirder is that there were also traces of TW25B, another light-weight synthetic grease applied through a syringe, and an even heavier one-MC1210 which is lithium-based and extremely heavy-duty. Best for use in high-humidity, salt water, high temps and-"

"I'm familiar with all that, Abbs."

"Right. Well good. My point here, is that there were even traces of another lubricant used by Krytox, a line that makes other synthetic and popular oils...on his clothing. In this case, Gibbs, with Private Goodman...I mean with the marine likely being sexually assaulted and all-even though there weren't any bodily fluids left behind other than his own-it may have been used for other reasons..." She paused to grimace before continuing. "It seems like there were probably numerous assaults on this poor guy and over a period of time."

Gibbs frowned as he processed the information. "Go on."

"There was also blood from the victim himself-and plenty of it-also confirmed by the clothes he wore. It was clearly not consensual-I mean I don't think he wanted to participate-you know-to cause so much _internal_ damage. I still have some tests to run so I can determine the exact source of the latex. But we've collected other samples too that I am running-including a hair.." She turned to Gibbs who was eyeing her intently now. "I think we're dealing with a real monster here, Gibbs." He nodded.

"So some form of sexual assault. A glove or a condom, and lots of different lubricants were used," Gibbs recapped, awaiting final clarification from his forensic expert.

"Bingo."

Gibbs kissed her softly on the cheek. "That's good work, Abby." She smiled proudly.

He re-entered the offices' hub and was met with a pleasant surprise. No one was being unethical or wasting valuable time, instead intently clicking away at their keyboards. He went to his desk and deposited a fresh coffee there. Ellie was the first to speak.

"It looks like another recruit, roughly the same age, only this time Navy, has been recently attacked and injured. Badly beaten in fact. A Seaman Jared Blythe. He was taken to the U.S. Naval Hospital Beaufort, following his collapse where he claimed that he was injured in an accident. He was transferred to Beaufort Memorial Hospital for further testing. That's where he is right now," she announced. "The medical staff doesn't believe that his injuries were accidental."

"Think the two are related, Boss?" Tim asked from his desk. "You-You know his assault, and the death of Private Goodman...e-even though they're different branches?"

"That's what we're gonna' find out, McGee," Gibbs said. Tony shot from his chair, expecting to accompany his boss.

"Headed to the hospital?" he asked, shrugging into his jacket.

"You're with me, McGee. Bishop, keep working on that lead and find out if there were any sexual assaults reported, cover-ups or not. I wanna' know about 'em all. Tony, make some more calls and find out what his superiors were all about, including fellow recruits."

"On it, Boss," Tony said dejectedly, wistfully watching them walk away, leaving he and Ellie behind.

He was beginning to get stir-crazy cooped up in the office all day with the rain drizzling down. Unfortunately, it was visible outside the window. He sighed and watched Ellie spread her papers out on the floor beside her desk. Clearly she'd gathered enough information to begin her crazy organizing and hypothesizing of data. No, not hypothesizing, he thought to himself. She would somehow pull _factual _data from that confusing pile, and burst forward with it when it was needed most.

She looked up and gave him a small smile. "Bored?" she asked, quickly returning to her work.

"Thinking about grabbing something from the vending machine," he grumbled. "Get you anything?"

She shook her head. "I already have some snacks over there, if you're interested." She pointed behind her.

"Uh...no thanks. I'm all cheetoed out. Be right back."

* * *

The Navy recruit swallowed hard against the plastic intubation tube lodged at the back of his throat. His eyes popped open when he realized where he was. The steady beeping of the heart monitor and the hum of oxygen had given it away.

He blinked rapidly as horrible images flickered through his mind. He struggled to free himself from the wires and tubes so he could get away. No one was going to hold him down, ever again.

"Take it easy there. You'll hurt yourself," Gibbs said, untangling his trembling hand from his IV tubing. He held the hand firmly until he calmed down.

Gibbs looked sympathetically into the swollen eyes of the badly beaten seaman. He was listed as twenty-one years old, but he looked far younger from what he could tell under the bruises and cuts. The young man began to wheeze desperately, and Gibbs turned to Tim.

"Grab a nurse to take that out of him, McGee. Let 'em know he's awake."

McGee nodded, "Right, boss."

He went out to the hall to flag someone down. He realized that his boss hadn't wanted to hit the call button and bring an entire team in before they could conduct the interview.

"Excuse me, Nurse? Seaman Blythe is ready to have his intubation tube removed-uh now."

She raised a finely arched brow in a questioning way, but followed him back to the room. The recruit was clawing at his throat now.

"That's the tube in your throat that you're feeling, son," Gibbs said soothingly. The young man stilled, studying his face intently for more answers. Tim returned with the nurse, and she stood at her patient's bedside.

"How are you doing, Mr. Blythe?" she asked. He stared at her warily. "Can I get you anything?"

"I _think_ he wants that tube out of his throat," Gibbs said. The man was getting himself worked up now, twisting and turning in his sheet.

"I'll need to get the doctor to check him first-"

"Spare us the spiel, Nurse. Should be able to take it out by now. Surgery's over..." Gibbs interrupted, recalling how he had felt when waking up the same way, in pain and choking on a tube shoved down the back of his throat.

A swarthy gentleman in a doctor's coat entered and slowly slid the tube from the recruit's throat, making him cough and bolt forward to gasp for a breath.

"I'm going to look you over quickly," the doctor said.

"Mind having company present, Mr. Blythe?" the nurse asked, giving the agents a disapproving scowl. He shook his head, and the doctor quickly glanced beneath the covers. "They say they want to ask him a few questions," the nurse told the physician with a meaningful look.

"Are you up for it?" the doctor asked in a noncommittal tone as he checked his ribs.

The recruit's eyes darted to the two NCIS agents standing patiently on the other side of the room. He didn't respond, but his eyes seemed fearful as they landed at the open doorway next.

"It's just going to be us, Seaman. Completely confidential."

The nurse adjusted the pillows and laid him back down. She moistened his mouth with a wet swab, and stepped back, giving Gibbs a last once over before leaving the room. He smirked back at her. The doctor checked his patient's vital signs and IV line.

"You're doing good, Jared," he said, jotting a few notes down. "I'll be back to check on you again later this evening."

"So, we have permission to ask you a few questions?" Tim asked, stepping forward. They got a reluctant nod this time. "Thank you."

"I know your throat's a bit sore," Gibbs began, speaking from experience once more, "but can you tell us who did this to you?" The recruit blinked rapidly, then quickly looked away. He shook his head. They knew he was avoiding eye-contact.

"Are you sure about that?" Tim asked. The man's breathing quickened, and he squirmed in his bed. "Just take it easy..." Tim said, helping him to settle by placing a reassuring hand on his forearm.

"We know this wasn't an accident, as it was first reported when you were admitted," Gibbs added.

The heart monitor was beeping faster still, and they both looked at the door to see if someone was on their way to find out why. When no one came, they continued.

"We know this is hard, but we need you to tell us if you knew your assailant," Gibbs prodded gently.

His eyes glistened with tears, but he shook his head again. His chest was heaving now, and Tim exchanged a look with his boss. They had definitely hit a sore spot with that question.

"Do you remember the attack at all?" Tim tried.

The recruit looked down. "You can keep other recruits like yourself from going through the same kind of hell," Gibbs added.

"Yes.." he rasped out. The man's big brown eyes were restless again, and the monitor responded. "I...thought I was going to die." His eyes welled up and he linked them back.

"Did the attacker or attackers have a weapon?" Gibbs asked.

A small whimper escaped his throat and he swallowed. He closed his eyes, forcing the pent-up tears to trickle out. He nodded.

"Were there more than one?" Tim asked. He shook his head. So they'd learned that it was only one individual, and that he, or she, was armed. "Was it a man or a woman?"

Surprise flickered behind the recruit's eyes for a moment. Apparently, he hadn't actually been raped or there would have been some evidence of it left. Relief flooded over him and he exhaled deeply. He didn't think he could live with the knowledge. But even knowing that, could never take away the memories of the other things that had been done to him before he lost consciousness.

"Man," he whispered definitively. His eyes drooped immediately, as if even just saying the word had completely drained him. Gibbs nodded.

"Okay, we'll let you rest now. Thank you, Seaman Blythe. I saw your training logs and you did a fine job," Gibbs said, patting him on the shoulder.

The unfortunate incident had occurred the evening before his last day of his training, and he knew that the military would not consider the requirements complete. He saw that he was not listed on the graduation roster as an official Seaman, but in his eyes he was. He'd earned it for crying out loud.

"If you think of anything else you'd like to tell us, let us know," Tim said, handing him his card. The man nodded, but closed his eyes again. He'd already drifted off as they watched, still clutching the card in his hand.

The agents made their way to the parking garage, and Gibbs didn't waste any time in getting on his cell to phone his senior agent.

"DiNozzo, run a check on everyone Seaman Recruit Jared Blythe," he enunciated, "may have come into contact with during training. And, I mean _everyone_."

"On it, boss."

They drove out of the garage and Gibbs' tires squealed as he pulled onto the road, suddenly taking the first turn way too fast. Tim struggled to anchor himself into the seat, but twisted his neck to watch a van pass.

"Uh, boss? I believe that someone back there was-uh-watching us."

"I know that, McGee. Why do you think I'm turning this way, instead of that way?"

"I hadn't noticed, boss," Tim said honestly. He'd been too worried about buckling up for the ride to pay any attention.

The man in the car was already on his way back to where he'd left some unfinished business that he needed to take care of immediately. An innocent-looking new recruit was about to be initiated into his private club. He knew he'd fix this mess before it could take him down. He always did. He just had to throw his weight around with the one's that mattered most. Too bad that last boy had forced him to kill him. If he just would have accepted his punishment.

Now, he might have to make the biggest statement to date, if he wanted to be left alone. Because, just as he was sick and tired of snot-nosed little recruits thinking they were big, tough men, he was sick and tired of snot-nosed agents on his tail who thought they could out-smart him.

First, he would have to learn the NCIS agent's routines like the back of his hand. And, if they continued to get in his way, he'd have to make an example out of a couple of them. He smiled to himself. Preferably, the two younger male agents. He'd teach them a real lesson that they'd never forget...

* * *

**Thanks for reading the first chapter. ;)**

**Crumpet**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews and follows! They are truly appreciated. (: This chapter is a bit lighter, as we need to get to the heart of the story, but the next one...maybe not so much.**

* * *

Tony rounded the corner, whistling cheerfully. He briefly glanced at Ellie's desk as he passed with breakfast burrito and to-go cup in hand. He studied the blonde further when he realized that she hadn't bothered to acknowledge his arrival.

He stopped at his chair, tilting his head to one side as he took in the typical scene; her surrounded by a sea of scattered papers. Likely, she would have been on the floor if she could have found a way to bring the desktop down with her, he thought to himself. He waited there, but she still did not look up.

He frowned and noisily tossed his gear bag to the floor behind his desk, clanked his keys into the drawer, and crinkled the take-out wrapper, now spread out on the desk before him. Still nothing. Even Tim wasn't bothering to greet him. He shrugged and took a hearty bite.

"Morning,'" he murmured through a mouthful of scrambled eggs and sausage.

Slurping his drink to see if he could at least annoy someone for a bit of negative attention, he was still met with nothing but silence. Tim hadn't even moved at his desk, as far as he could tell from his peripheral vision.

Finally, Ellie glanced up over the top of her monitor briefly, just long enough to confirm his presence. She'd been fervently researching the suspects since she'd left the office the night before, and being forced to actually come in to continue the task was a distraction to her methods.

"Morning," she finally said, but without enthusiasm.

Tony exhaled the breath he held, relieved that he at least wasn't completely invisible that morning. He, himself, had a good night, and he was dying to share it with his unwilling victims. He snickered before taking another hefty bite.

He glanced over at Tim, taking a double-take when he found him transfixed with whatever, or whoever, was on his computer screen. He shoved the over-sized bite he'd bitten off, deep into the pocket of his cheek so that he could stop chewing long enough to find out. The man definitely looked like something was bothering him over there.

"Whatcha' got there, McGee?" he asked, hoping it was something he could use to razz him. Tim's eyes never left the screen, and he looked more than a little shocked by what he saw.

"Hmmm," Tim mumbled. There was no way to tell if the agent was replying to him, or simply talking to himself.

"What's the matter, Timmy? You look like you've seen a ghost!" Tony roared, laughing now at his bulgy eyes. Tony blanched when Tim jumped at the sound of his booming voice, turning terrified eyes his way.

"I-I think I may have."

Tony immediately wheeled his chair over to see what was spooking his co-worker. He curiously leaned in to study the monitor. Tim's fingers hovered over the keyboard, almost afraid that any contact with the keys might somehow bring him closer to the elderly woman's image.

Tony's eyebrows knitted together, his green eyes scanning for any clue about why this seemingly harmless and matronly looking woman's photo was putting Tim into such a catatonic state.

"Blink, McGee. She can't virtually bite you, regardless of what those multi-player geeks might tell you. Actually, I think that she looks rather nice and grandmotherly. Not an 'ex' though, I hope?" he asked mockingly.

"NO!" Tim practically shouted, startling Tony backward He was appalled by the thought. "And, she's no grandma! So just being obnoxious!" he blurted out, feeling his skin crawl.

"Geez, McSpazzie! Don't get your panties in a twist! She's probably _somebody's_ grandma, by the way." He pouted. It was too early to be yelled at. Tim still stared at the screen, shaking his head repeatedly. "Okay! Spill, McGee!" Tony demanded.

"I m-mean she might be somebody's grandma, b-but I certainly hope not," Tim continued, At least for the sake of-"

"Spill, McGee!" Tony said louder, growing even more curious as his partner withheld vital information.

"Ms. Crabtree," he said flatly, instantly wan as he uttered her name. "My home room _and_ science teacher. An absolutely terrifying woman."

"Crabtree? Seriously? That can't be real!" Tony hooted.

"Oh, it's real. Ms. Agnes Crabtree. Widow, of course," Tim said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Tony chuckled, but he had already lost interest in the situation, and was promptly wheeling back to his own desk. However, Ellie was eyeing Tim with new interest.

"Someone you didn't get along with, Tim?" she asked kindly.

"No one got along with her. She happens to be one of the scariest teachers I've ever had," he said somberly. "She might look grandmotherly now, but let me tell you, she didn't look that way before. She wielded a pointer like a skilled marksman wields a gun. Many times she had one of the students reduced to tears. Just by swishing that thing through the air like a maniac..."

"Like you, McCrybaby? Did the other kids call you that, Timmy?" Tony asked, grinning devilishly over at Ellie.

"No, Tony. Only you ever called me "Mc" anything. And, for your information, I only cried once when she actually hit me with that darn thing. Right across the-"

_"Ha! You got spanked at MIT with a pointer stick!"_ Tony exclaimed, howling with laughter at his own joke. Tim rolled his eyes.

"No, Tony. She was a high school teacher, not a college professor. _**Annnd,**_ I was going to say, right across the knuckles. Couldn't write all day long, and it left a big, red welt that lasted for hours."

"Ouch," Ellie said with sincere empathy.

Tony's belittling grin instantly faded as he rubbed mindlessly at his own knuckles. He recalled the way his piano teacher liked to keep her ruler handy for whacking them when he messed up the notes during his lessons. At last, Tim clicked the image away with a sigh.

"Apparently, she's just been honored with a lifetime achievement award for helping under-privileged children learn to read and write. Poor kids. To top it off, she's here in D.C. to accept the award which will be presented by the president, himself. Go figure."

"_Niiiice!" _Tony said, leaning way back in his chair as he laced his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought.

Ellie winced as she watched him teeter there, wondering if he'd ever leaned back too far and fell. He was so close to going over at the moment that she could scream. She bit her tongue and turned away.

_"Ahhhh_, I bet she was nothing compared to my old football coach!" Tony announced, still wobbling about.

Tim looked his way skeptically, until he saw the new look etched upon his partner's face. The jovial look was replaced by one of pure contempt. He waited for him to continue his latest tale. Ellie too, became interested in what he had to say. She leaned forward at her desk, and rested her chin in her hand impatiently.

"Go on," she prompted.

"He had a three-foot long paddle with a hole drilled through it for every year he coached," Tony continued with disgust. Tim's eyebrows rose high. "Coach Zimba." The name seemed to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

"Oooh," Ellie said, appearing shocked. "How many years did he coach?"

"Eleven at the time." He fell silent as he leaned forward and shifted awkwardly in his chair, clearly reliving the sting it could leave behind. "Even named the darn thing."

"Well?" Tim prompted when the silence continued for far too long.

"Well what, McGee?" Tony asked irritably.

"Well, what did he name it?"

"Well...it was often referred to as 'The Board Of Education', but he liked to call the delightful experience 'catching holy hell...' Actually engraved 'Holy Hell' on it himself, come to think of it," he said shuddering.

"Surprised he got away with_ that_ one in a high school," Tim said.

"Who said anything about high school?" Tony asked, perplexed.

"_College?"_ Tim asked, surprised. Tony nodded weakly, and Tim suppressed a smile of satisfaction for the revelation. "Well?" Tim pushed again.

"Well what!"Tony asked in exasperation, indignant that his bitter thoughts were interrupted by the same question as before. He just knew that he _couldn't_ have deserved all that paddling he'd received.

"Well-did he actually hit you with it, _or what?"_ Tim urged him on. Tony's eyes shifted about aimlessly.

"I may have been on the receiving end of it a time...or two," he said carelessly. "Pun intended," he added with a wince. He rubbed at his backside.

"Bummer," Tim said.

"You could hear that thing whistling from a mile away."

He stood, acting out the dreadful scene, imaginary paddle and all. "First, he did this!" To Tim and Ellie's horror, he wound up. "Next, he did this!" He drove the invisible paddle forward, complete with whistling sound effects. "Thennnn!" He then ended the tutorial with a grand finale.

"_**WHACK! Wood on flesh!"**_ he shouted dramatically, as if releasing years of pent-up tension through his public theatrics. The two had a difficult time closing their mouths after their jaws had dropped.

"Oh! So, you're going to say that your eyes didn't even water a teeny bit when _t__**hat **_happened?" Tim asked with a scoff, doubtful.

"Who said it happened to _meeee, McGeeee?_ Assume much, do ya'?" Tony asked sarcastically. Tim shook his head, then rolled his eyes again.

"Did it, though?" Ellie asked innocently.

Tony avoided eye-contact with the wide-eyed blonde as he suddenly began to rummage through his top drawer. "I know I had a chocolate bar in here somewhere..." he muttered, determined to change the subject. "Loan me a dollar, anyone?"

Ellie dug through her handbag and pulled one out at the same time Tim removed one from his wallet. Tim flashed his bill before his eyes, first. Tony shot from his chair and darted to Tim's desk to claim it. He snatched at it desperately, but to no avail.

"Yep!" Tim said, dangling it just out of reach from Tony's eager fingers. "Nuh-uh-uh. Not until you admit that you cried, too," Tim said smugly, enjoying the ball landing in his court for a change.

Tony looked panic-stricken under their watchful eyes. He spun in a circle, debating how much to actually share with the pair. Dinozzos _**did no**_**t** cry, he reminded himself.

"Ellie! Do _you_ have a dollar?" he asked hopefully, deciding to call Tim's bluff.

She started to say yes, since she was obviously still clutching the bill in her hand, but Tim peered around Tony, gave her a look, and shook his head.

"Um...um...I guess not?" she said uncertainly, slowly wadding the single up in to her palm, and stuffing it back into her handbag.

Tony glared at Tim. He really needed the comfort of chocolate after rehashing those painful memories. Tim smiled, and held up the dollar bill again.

"It's all yours, Tony! But, it's your turn to spill," he said sternly. Tony stomped his foot in frustration.

"_**Oh! All right! Yes, I did! Okay? Happy now, McMeanie? **__**I'd like to see you get blazed by the board of education **__**and not bat an eye! I bet you, McCrybaby, would be all like; WHAAAA! Mommy, my teacher paddled me! WHAAAA!" **_he wailed loudly, rubbing at his eyes with his fists, and making all other eyes in the office turn his way.

Next, he ran around in circles clutching the seat of his pants for full effect, still wailing obnoxiously. Ellie just stared at him in amazement. Tim, realizing that the subject had clearly hit a raw nerve, was also rendered speechless while watching the rant. He sympathetically handed over the dollar just as Gibbs came around the corner with a fresh coffee in hand, the sight of him instantly silencing his senior field agent.

"Good morning, boss!" Tony exclaimed way too cheerfully, heading back to his seat, looking rather guilty. "We were just reminiscing about the good ol' school days!"

"You're gonna' get a refresher course in a minute DiNozzo, if you don't stop that racket and grab your gear," Gibbs said meaningfully.

Tony's eyes popped wide, and he hustled to arm himself, jamming his weapons in to his holsters. Then, he slung his bag over his shoulder to join the other agents in their clamor to the elevator. The three of them were bottle-necked between the desks in no time, following close on the heels of their leader.

"Same MO, boss?" Tim asked.

"Yup. Heading out to Parris Island. Another badly beaten, and terribly confused recruit. Need to check out the chain of command there."

"What's the flight status?" Tony wasted no time in asking, as they entered the elevator.

"Leaves in twenty minutes. Gonna' have to punch it," Gibbs said. Tony paled slightly. He was already anticipating a gut-twisting ride to the airport.

"Actually boss, I was referring to class, as in hopefully 'first'," he clarified breathlessly, jogging now to make it in before the doors closed.

"I know what you meant, Tony." Gibbs punched the elevator button, and threw him a fleeting sideways glance intended to end the conversation.

"You see boss, I still have a stiff neck from-" he continued anyway, only stopping when green eyes met icy blue. "Never mind."

Inadvertently, Gibbs had answered his question anyway. They were clearing flying military. It was Tim's turn to pale. His stomach had given him grief ever since he'd seen the teacher's face gracing his screen that morning, and it was sure to be a turbulent flight as usual.

"Ready for this, Probie?" Tony asked Ellie, grimacing.

"Yes?" she said uncertainly, shrugging. Being ready wasn't optional, she told herself.

Gibbs looked straight ahead as the elevator descended. He was silent, but a small, crooked smile was now playing on his lips.

* * *

After the plane landed, Tony and Tim walked cautiously along the base's tarmac behind Ellie and their boss. Surprisingly, she had not been nearly as affected by the thrashing about during the flight, as the two of them. The fatty, sugar-filled breakfasts they had each opted for, along with the unpleasant walk down memory lane, had them both utterly nauseous.

"I need to find a restroom," Tim whispered hoarsely.

"That makes two of us!" Tony retorted, clutching his stomach.

"McGee! Dinozzo! What's the hold-up back there!" Gibbs bellowed.

"Coming, boss!" Tim responded, breaking a sweat as he lunged into action and caught up.

"On your six!" Tony called, also sweating as he fast-walked up behind Tim.

"He's going to kill us before this day is through," Tim moaned. Tony nodded in agreement.

"Hey...about that little outburst earlier...sorry about that. I guess it just brought back some very painful memories."

"No problem, Tony. I understand. Maybe you can make it up to me by-"

"We'll have to kiss each others' boo-boos later, Timmy. I need to find a bathroom, pronto!" Tony interrupted. He groaned as he felt another muscle spasm in his stomach. He was beginning to wonder if he'd eaten something tainted.

Gibbs shook hands with the white-haired man who stood waiting, anticipating their arrival. "Good to see you again, Lieutenant Whitehall," he said warmly.

"Long time, no see," the Lieutenant said. He shook hands with the three agents, exchanging names and titles with a curt nod aimed at each. Another plane descended for a landing. "Let me get you folks settled in to a quieter place!. Right this way, Agents!"

Enduring another jaunt across a broad parking lot, they entered a building not far from where the recruits gathered for training. They were led down a long corridor to a cool, private room with a polished table situated directly in the center.

"Make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen. And, ladies," he added with a smile."Feel free to look around when we are through here. This is the last place the recruits were seen before the assaults occurred, I'm afraid."

"Thank you," Gibbs said. "Nice of you to take the time out from your busy schedule to meet with us," he said with a faint smile. The Lieutenant took a seat and the others followed suit.

"Being appointed Series Commander over these men and women, you can well imagine that I need to get to the bottom of this. It's on my head. Ending the string of attacks on our recruits takes precedence over all other business, as far as I'm concerned."

"Of course," Gibbs said, studying the man's demeanor carefully._ "_You feel certain they're all related then, Lieutenant?"

"Well I can't know that for sure, but they do seem to be similar in many ways. I'll brief you on what I do know, which isn't much I'm afraid." Gibbs nodded, and the agents prepared to take notes. The Lieutenant's face was grave as he relayed what little he knew.

"We lost one recruit just this past week. Went missing right in the middle of the day. I understand that he wound up in your autopsy. Another had to be discharged from the Corps following hospitalization. He had some mysterious injuries that we couldn't account for, and was out too long being treated to complete the necessary training. This latest young man was also severely beaten, although not to the same degree as the others. Unfortunately, he already shows the first signs of PTSD from his ordeal, according to the psychiatric evaluation."

"Same Intel we have. Can you tell us anything we don't know, Lieutenant Whitehall?" Gibbs asked. No one bothered to take notes. "Anything odd going on with the recruits the day they went missing?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Typical day of training."

"No signs of insubordination or unusual discord among recruits?"

The Lieutenant chuckled. That _would_ be a typical day of training. These youngsters aren't marines, yet. Still stuck in civilian mode. But, I don't need to tell you that." Gibbs just smirked.

"The only thing that doesn't add up in this whole thing," he continued, "is that I hear a Seaman recruit was also targeted in a similar fashion that these young men were. I don't know how this maniac could be in two places at the same time. Real hat trick, I guess."

"Maybe they're not related, or, a copycat," Gibbs said.

He leaned forward and looked directly into Gibbs' eyes. "I can't afford a scandal like this om my watch, Agent Gibbs. I need to have this bastard caught ASAP."

Gibbs nodded again. "We'll find 'em, Lieutenant. Won't stop til we do."

"That's what I needed to hear, Agent Gibbs. I knew that you were the right team for the job."

"Know where we can find our latest victim and ask him a few questions?" Gibbs asked.

"I understand that he's being treated as an outpatient since his release last night. I think you'll find everything you need to know right here." He pushed a file towards him.

Gibbs leafed through the first couple of pages, glancing at the photo of a handsome young man. "They released him awfully fast. Usually keep 'em longer for observation. Is he still considered in training here at Parris Island?"

"I'm afraid not. He would need clearance to stay on, and with the symptoms he's experiencing...Unfortunately, it would be too late."

"Just happened yesterday. Seems a bit abrupt," Gibbs said quietly. "Couldn't have missed much if he's already out."

"Well...it appears that he may be a bit unstable. Apparently, he went into a fit of rage when he was ordered to seek medical care. Broke up a few things before he could be restrained. It's all documented there in his file."

He stood to shake hands again. Gibbs took the man's hand firmly in his, and offered him a reassuring smile.

"Be seein' you again real soon."

"I'm looking for-" His speech was cut short by an attractive woman wearing a Sergeant's uniform who rapped twice before entering. She seemed surprised to find others still in the room. "Sergeant Schafer," the Lieutenant greeted.

"Lieutenant Whitehall, I'm sorry to interrupt, but there is a situation that needs your immediate attention," she said, slyly eyeing Tony. He in turn, looked her over and smiled.

"Thank you. I'm just finishing up here with these good people. Let them know I'm on my way, Sergeant."

"Yes, Lieutenant," she said, leaving as soon as she had returned Tony's smile.

She exited quickly, and the man gave his full attention back to Gibbs. "Agent Gibbs, I know I can count on you. I assume I'll be the first to know when you have anything at all to report?"

"Of course. Like you said, this was on your watch."

"Thank you," He said gravely, nodding and turning on his heels, to leave them alone in the empty room.

"Busy man. Come on. We've got a job to do," Gibbs said.

"What do you think was so important that it couldn't wait until we were through here?" Tony wondered aloud, referring to the pretty brunette's entrance.

"A million things. But, that's the first part of the job. Finding out," Gibbs said.

"Boy, word sure spread quickly. Another branch is already sharing information about their own investigation," Tony mused. "I realize that plenty more gets passed along than should be..."

"Check that out too, DiNozzo. Find out who the informant is. You're with me, McGee."

Tim frowned. He was really hoping that he would be paired up with Tony this time so that he could get to a bathroom first. His stomach was still growling in protest.

"Right, boss."

Tony was already whisking Ellie away to find one for himself. Tim stared as his back enviously, then gathered up his gear to follow his boss. It would be a long day.


End file.
